


Anteros

by Chaotic_Smutty (Anna_Hopkins)



Series: October, 2019 [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (sacrilege), Alternate Universe - Muggle, Background Relationships, Blasphemy, Bottom Tom Riddle, Catholic School, Chaotic Smutty, Discord: Tomarrymort, Enemies to Lovers, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentions of James/Sirius, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Smut, Temptation, Timeline Mashup, Top Harry Potter, no one should be surprised by this honestly, same age au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 02:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Chaotic_Smutty
Summary: Hogwarts is an all-boys' Catholic school. Tom Riddle is the appointed leader of the school's Anti-Cupid Squad: he, along with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, patrols the castle after hours to intervene in inappropriate student liaisons. Alternately respected or feared by his fellow students, Tom is the favorite of the faculty, particularly Principal Umbridge, for upholding decorum in the school.Harry Potter is Tom's unspoken nemesis, and has been since the day he transferred in. His libertine, rules-lax attitude is justinfuriating, but nothing grates nearly so much as the fact Potter keepspropositioninghim, muttering temptations in his ear that Tom will never, ever succumb to. No matter what he does -





	1. Chapter 1

There was moaning coming from the broom closet again, loud enough this time that it could be faintly heard down the corridor where Tom was standing. He sighed, running a palm down his face, and drew his 'wand', an LED penlight with the Hogwarts Catholic School insignia on one end. It was only slightly too fragile to use to beat people with, he mused, which was really too bad -- it was terribly satisfying to imagine slapping people across the face.

Particularly these three -- the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan.  _ Why _ they had to be so obnoxious about buggering each other in the school, he didn't know. Moreover, he didn't see the appeal of whatever it was that produced the same sounds he was hearing right now. They should really just stop their amorous activities entirely, and devote themselves to their studies; Lord knew they needed the grades.

He strode up to the door, knocking loudly on the wood before attempting to turn the door handle: the sounds stopped, but the door was also  _ locked, _ which it shouldn't have been able to be. "Come out of there, you three," Tom demanded, then amended, "when you're dressed." He stood waiting, brushing imaginary dust off the Anti-Cupid Badge on his blazer, as a mixture of grumbled cursing and jostled shelves reached his ears through the door.

"So bossy, Riddle," crooned a voice from just behind his left ear, as a familiar arm looped around his shoulders. Tom grimaced, glaring pointedly at the door. Ugh.  _ Potter _ was here.

"I should report you for breaking curfew, you heathen," he spat. "And stop draping yourself on me like a wet rag."

Soft laughter from the other boy, made worse by his continued clinging. "You say that every time, but you never do. I wonder if you like me after all."

Frustrated, Tom shook him off and turned around to glare at Potter directly. The arrogant bastard had strolled into Hogwarts only this term, and he'd managed to get on Tom's nerves the very first day, laughing in his face at the suggestion he correct his tie.  _ Go ahead and tie it for me, darling, _ Potter drawled, standing as if he genuinely expected Tom to do it.

That had been the first time in a while that Tom got in a fistfight. (Fortunately, the rapport he'd built with Umbridge over the years had spared him any repercussions.) Worse, Potter hadn't given up on antagonizing him: he was constantly interfering in the affairs of the Anti-Cupid Squad, cutting off confrontations between Tom or his squad members and the numerous couples caught in illicit situations on school grounds.

At the moment, Potter was patting Tom on the cheek in a mockery of affection that had him flushing in suppressed rage. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone about your feelings for me. Even if I did, they can't really blame you." He batted his eyes at Tom in the same sickening way that that Bellatrix girl from the public school in town kept doing.

"Just get  _ away _ from me already," Tom snarled. But Potter stepped closer, instead, backing Tom into the wall by the door. "What are you --?"

"Don't you get tired of this charade, Tom?" the dark-haired boy suggested, standing much too close to him,  _ putting his hands on Toms hips _ . "Of pretending you care about the rules?" His breath fanned out against Tom's neck as he sighed, "Ever the obedient servant, sitting pretty in the teachers' pockets. All… too… eager… to do what they say."

A finger traced down Tom's necktie, and his breath hitched at the dark look in Potter's eyes. "Get out of my face," he protested, and his voice sounded feeble even to him.

"Okay," Potter acquiesced -- abruptly dropping to his knees. His hands were still at Tom's waist; he made as if to unbutton Tom's trousers. "How's this, instead?"

The words forming on Tom's lips didn't manage to leave his mouth. He stared down at Potter with a mix of offense and alarm and something else that he didn't have a word for. Potter was just smirking, thumbs hooked in Tom's belt loops.

"You like seeing me like this," he observed, "on my knees. It's the power, isn't it? The  _ dominance. _ You don't know what to do with it, do you, Tom?"

And he unbuttoned the top button of Tom's trousers.

The gasp that came out of Tom's mouth was deafening in the silence of the corridor. "S… stop that, Potter," he choked out, all too conscious of the heat in his cheeks spreading down his neck. Potter slowly licked his lips, gazing up at him with that same smug expression he always wore. And then he stood up and left Tom there, frozen to the wall like a crushed spider.

After a moment, he too fled, with nary a thought for the students he was supposed to be reprimanding.

Draco and Blaise were muttering together over a document when Tom returned to their squad's headquarters a few minutes later. They jerked apart as if stung at the sound of the door opening, turning wide eyes onto Tom. "Riddle," Blaise greeted with a nod. "Next patrol, then?" He stood up, then paused, glancing down. "Your button's come undone, by the way."

"The button thread's loose," Tom lied, setting the penlight on the table. "But yes, I'm turning in for the night. Keep an ear out for Finnegan and the Weasleys, they haven't shown up yet. Good night, Malfoy, Zabini."

He retired to his room shortly after, shucking off his uniform with considerable annoyance. As he changed into his pyjamas, his traitorous brain kept replaying Potter's words and actions; the room became too warm for the extra layers. He slept naked instead, uncomfortably aware of the physical reaction the other boy had stirred up in him.

Worse, it hadn't gone down by the time he woke, just before dawn. Tom relieved himself with a perfunctory wank, determined not to imagine anything or anyone specific while he did it.  _ Just a physical release of unnecessary fluids, _ he told himself,  _ it means nothing. _

Potter's last words as he walked off echoed in his ears.  _ Denial ain't just a river, Riddle. _

Potter continued to pester him all through the next month, but the events of that night did not repeat themselves, for which Tom was thankful. His relative peace was not meant to last, however; and their next confrontation occurred on the night of Halloween -- or rather, All Saints' Eve.

The superintendent, Dumbledore, had insisted that the students be allowed to mingle with the rest of the town, for reasons Tom couldn't fathom. Surprisingly, Tom wasn't asked to monitor the dorms for returning students; he ended up walking through the town with Draco and Blaise, observing the trick-or-treating going on in the neighborhoods. Hogsmeade was a pretty little village during the day; weekends spent visiting throughout the years had largely accustomed him to its beauty, even when picture-perfect in the snow, but Hogsmeade at night was something else -- even Tom could feel it.

The autumn chill in the air was only part of it; Tom felt as though he were anticipating something, roaming the quiet streets with only the glow of the moon and their flashlights to guide their way. Then, his companions stopped in the town's pub, the Three Broomsticks, to use the bathroom; Tom let them go, not planning on waiting for them to return. He turned off his flashlight and walked on, down through the main street and into the fields on the outskirts, where the breeze buffeted his coat around him like a wizard's robes.

Alone, his eyes caught on a small, flickering glow in the grass.  _ Fire, _ he thought, alarmed. Approaching, he completely missed the silhouette of the person nearby -- until an arm looped around his waist and wine-heavy breath assaulted his nose. He turned, ready to shout, and recognized the face in the firelight with no small irritation. "Potter," he began, " _ why _ are you starting a fire in the grass?"

"'s a bonfire, Riddle," the other boy pointed out. "Can't have Halloween without a bonfire."

"And the wine?"

Potter held up a bottle -- probably stolen, the utter delinquent -- sloshing some of it on the ground. "Can't have a bonfire without a drink. Have some?" He shoved the end of it in Tom's face, bumping his mouth. Tom grimaced, shoving him away; Potter stumbled a bit, but didn't fall. Perhaps he wasn't that drunk.

"I can't believe you, Potter," Tom muttered, watching the fire. There was a large bucket of water sitting within reach, and the grass had been cleared out in a little circle around the bonfire. It was actually quite safe, on second glance; perhaps he'd been too hasty in declaring Potter a delinquent... Then he saw the other boy drinking wine from the bottle, and sighed. "Is there any sin you  _ haven't  _ committed?"

"If we're going to have  _ that _ conversation, you should call me Harry," Potter suggested, holding the bottle out again, this time at a respectable distance.

Tom took it, just to get it out of his hands; intoxication and fire sounded like a terrible combination. "Fine, then, Harry," he acquiesced, just to get the boy to stop hounding him about it.

Potter giggled, sitting down, and gestured to Tom to sit down beside him. "Seven deadly sins on the darkest night of the year, how fitting."

Tom didn't dignify that with a reply; instead, he sat down, leaving some distance between them. The bonfire was rather nice, he supposed. Warm.

"I don't remember the order they go in," Potter mused. "Let's start with wrath. I got sent here by my mum for starting too many fights in school, you know. When people piss me off, I don't hold back." He reached for the bottle in Tom's hand, but Tom held it away, and Potter sighed, giving up. "Greed...I tried my hand at stealing things, way back when. Wasn't very good at it, I guess. Sloth, I've got in spades, not like my friend Ron but," he waved a dismissive hand, "he got better after shacking up with Hermione. Hell, they're actually planning to get  _ married, _ like they're thirty and not sixteen."

Tom stayed quiet, wondering if he'd made a mistake letting Potter go on about his personal life. He didn't really seem the type -- but he might have had more wine than he seemed to. The other boy sighed, bumping shoulders with Tom as he leaned back. "There was no glutton like Ron, either. He's as bad as Crabbe and Goyle when it comes to table manners. What's next...um..."

"Pride," Tom suggested. He was still looking at the flames, but his focus was more on the way Potter continued to lean on him; the other boy had even shuffled closer.

"I'll never apologize for the kind of person I am," Potter -- Harry, whatever -- said firmly, now resting his head against Tom's shoulder. "Are you going to drink any of that wine, or just hold onto it for me?"

Just to spite him, Tom took a sip of the wine. He wrinkled his nose at the dry aftertaste. "How about envy?"

Harry didn't answer for a while. When he did, his voice was quieter than it had been before, and Tom had to strain to hear him. "My parents aren't together anymore," he said eventually. "My dad split up from Mum to run away with his best friend, this year. I felt bad for Mum, but Dad was always happier around Uncle Siri than around her. I'm...kind of envious of that. The happiness."

Tom glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. "Harry..." he trailed off, not sure what to say.

Harry snaked an arm around Tom's waist, draping himself over him again the way Tom didn't like. "It's why I get mad when Umbridge has you guys going around the school," he continued, voice muffled against Tom's coat. "I get not wanting public obscenity, and all, but she doesn't care about that as much as keeping people apart. 'Men and women only' or whatever. My parents only got married because they thought they were supposed to. I wouldn't wish that kind of unhappiness on anyone."

They didn't say anything else for a while; Tom eventually passed the wine bottle back to Harry, who took only a sip before grimacing and setting it down in the grass. His hand, where it lay on Tom's waist, was smoothing the fabric of his coat in a soothing gesture. A finger hooked in one of Tom's belt loops; he flinched, just barely enough to be noticed, at the recollection of the last time Harry had done that.

"You forgot one," Tom said to him. At Harry's confused glance, he elaborated. "The seven deadly sins. There's one more." He shifted where he was sitting, moving a little closer to Harry.

When he turned to look, Harry was gazing heatedly at him again, the same way he'd been a month before. "I suppose there is," he agreed.

Tom swallowed, suddenly rather nervous. He averted his gaze, looking back toward the fire, but his eyes snapped back to look at Harry when the other boy put a hand on his cheek. "I've felt rather lustful lately," Harry admitted, "but I haven't acted on it."

"Not even with your hand?" Tom wondered.

Harry laughed, at that. The wine on his breath tickled Tom's nose. "Of course I did," he answered, voice gone husky. "It shouldn't count, touching yourself, anyway. That's just unreasonable. You have to let go  _ somehow _ ."

"A necessary release of built-up fluids," Tom agreed.

His breath caught in his throat as Harry shifted closer still, twining their legs together. "It can be more than that, you know," the other boy breathed, tracing over the knot of Tom's necktie. "Doesn't have to be all proper or serious." One hand tugged at the knot, loosening it. "Doesn't even have to be reciprocated, sometimes."

Tom reached up to pull the tie away entirely. It was just getting in the way. "Are you...offering? To wank me off?"

Harry smiled at him. "Sure, I could use my hand." Said hand trailed down Tom's chest, undoing several of the buttons on his shirt. "Though I was thinking of using my mouth."

The sharp exhale that got out of Tom clearly pleased him. "You're so hot when you let yourself feel it," Harry sighed, crawling into Tom's lap. He straddled Tom's legs, using his hands for balance. "All I've been able to think of since before, was the way you looked when I was on my knees. Like you were going to fall apart if I took it further."

"...I've been wanking to it for weeks," Tom admitted, worrying his lip between his teeth.

Harry pushed gently on his shoulders, and Tom let him guide him down onto the grass. The fire had begun to burn down; the light of the moon was most of their source of illumination now.

He didn't get a chance to admire Harry in the moonlight; the other boy had leaned in, and then they were kissing, a chaste press of lips followed by Harry's tongue prying its way into Tom's mouth. They were kissing, then snogging, slow and leisurely in the open field, and Tom's groan at the press of Harry's groin against his own was swallowed in between their tongues. When Harry pulled away, his lips were swollen, shiny with saliva. Then he moved back, moved  _ lower _ , and palmed the bulge in Tom's trousers, and the sound Tom made was as loud and obscene as any he'd overheard. He couldn't help it, he realized. None of them could.

Harry deftly unbuttoned him again, sliding fingers over the fabric of Tom's briefs underneath, and took him gently in hand, coaxing his erection out of his clothes. Tom gasped, feeling the precome beading at the head, then moaned, biting his lip, as Harry's tongue flicked out to lick it away.

Tom gripped the grass between his fingers, panting, as the wet heat of Harry's mouth and throat enveloped him, swallowing him down to the hilt in one go. "Nngh --  _ Harry, _ " he choked out, hips bucking reflexively into it. He couldn't imagine having been able to stand while the other boy did this, if they'd really done it in the corridor so long ago.

Harry hummed around his cock, one hand going down to fondle his balls. He pulled back, until his lips were closed only over the sensitive head, then took Tom down again, sucking harder. "Harry!" Tom cried out. He threw an arm up to cover his face, embarrassed.

The other boy continued to pleasure him, drawing out all manner of noises from Tom's lips that he'd never imagined himself making. It was bringing him close to the edge already. Tom threaded his fingers through Harry's hair, tugging on it, and tried to control himself to no avail. "Harry -- I'm going to --"

Harry only moaned around him, swallowing, as Tom spilt himself down his throat. It was  _ intense _ , this pleasure, more than Tom had thought it could be. He lay gasping for breath for some time afterward, arms limp at his sides, while Harry licked the last of his seed off of him and tucked him back into his trousers, wiping him off with a handkerchief.

"That was amazing," Tom managed to say eventually.

Harry lay down in the grass beside him, smiling. He tucked the kerchief back into his pocket. "I suppose we've committed lust together, then."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- oh. Oh, fuck, he's succumbed to temptation.

Blaise glanced up at the clock on the wall, surprised to see it was already past the trade-off time for their patrols by nearly twenty minutes. "Tom's out late," he observed.

Draco looked up from where he knelt between Blaise's knees, cheek on the other boy's thigh. "Suppose he stole into the faculty room for a late-night cuppa?" he wondered. It was chilly in the castle now, what with the snow they'd been getting.

Blaise frowned -- a terribly attractive minute downturn of the corners of his lips -- looking up at the clock again. "I think we ought to go look for him," he admitted, concerned. "He could have gotten stuck dealing with an orgy or something."

"Or Potter," Draco snickered. "I can't believe that transfer student. It's like nobody told him Tom's not interested in men."

"Or anyone," Blaise added.

They untangled themselves and made to patrol in search of their erstwhile leader, down the long corridors of the first two floors -- and were abruptly stopped short by the noises coming from the broom closet favored by Jordan and the Weasleys.

Except, it was most definitely  _ not  _ one of the usual culprits behind that door. The moaning coming from the closet was... more passionate, than the Weasleys ever managed.

_ "Please," _ sobbed the unfamiliar voice, "I can't --  _ ah  _ \-- Harry --"

_ Oh Merlin,  _ Draco mouthed to Blaise, who was staring wide-eyed at the door with his mouth open.  _ Potter is in there too? _

They heard wet sounds through the door, and more begging, and then Potter spoke, his voice so low and seductive Draco could believe for a moment demons were real.

"Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook / or tie down its tongue with a rope? Can you put a cord through its nose / or pierce its jaw with a hook?"

"Mmh --" Draco shuddered, leaning against the stone wall beside the door. He locked eyes with Blaise, who was biting his lip, before glancing back at the door.

"Will it keep begging you for mercy? Will it speak to you with gentle words?" Potter's voice was gravelly with desire. Whoever was in with him had slammed a fist against the wooden shelves.

"Harry, Harry,  _ please, _ please --"

Potter let out a growl; a wet slap of skin on skin, as of a spanked buttock, rang out in the silent hallway. "Any hope of subduing it is false," he rasped. "The mere sight of it is overpowering."

"N-no one is fierce enough to rouse it," the other boy cried.

Potter laughed a cruel laugh that had Draco's knees buckling. Blaise pressed the heel of his palm against his tenting trousers.

"Who then," Potter murmured, "is able to stand against me? Who has a claim against me that I must pay?  _ Everything under heaven belongs to me." _

"Everything," the boy choked out, between gasps.

"That's right," Potter sighed. "You've been so good for me tonight, my darling." For several moments, there was nothing but heavy breathing behind the door. Then, the solid, slick sound of rough, urgent fucking; Potter recited verse again in between panting breaths, his own vocalizations much quieter than his companion's. Draco palmed himself through his trousers, listening intently.

"Nothing -- on earth -- is my equal; a creature, hah, without fear. I look down -- on all that are  _ haughty! _ I am  _ king  _ over all that are proud!"

_ "Harry," _ the other boy sobbed, "I'm going to --"

_ "Say it," _ Potter demanded on a groan. "You know the verse --"

"My --  _ ah  _ ears had heard of you / but now my eyes ha-ave seen you," the voice recited shakily. It almost sounded familiar.

Blaise had his hand in his pants, now, stroking himself hard and fast. Draco bit back his moan at the sight.  _ Only Potter, _ he thought,  _ would use verse to  _ roleplay.  _ Sweet Salazar, the blasphemy -- _ even Draco only used the school founders' names in vain.

"Th-therefore I despise -- myself -- ah, Harry, please,  _ harder  _ \-- a-and repent in dust and --  _ ashes! _ Ahn, please, Harry, I'm coming!"

"Come for me," Potter hissed, "that's it -- unh -- hah, yes, Tom,  _ Tom  _ \--"

Draco's cock went from stiff to absolutely rock-hard, throbbing, in an instant. His mouth dropped open in a little 'o' as he sagged against the wall. Blaise covered his mouth with his hand to muffle his exclamation as he came.

That had been  _ Tom. _ The begging; the moaning; the crying. Merlin, it was the hottest voice Draco had ever heard. He wouldn't be able to look his friend in the eyes.

A muffled moan and a loud, open sob came from the closet. Then, silence, broken only by Potter and -- and Tom, breathing heavily. Blaise and Draco took the opportunity to flee back to their appointed headquarters on the second floor. By the clock, it took another fifteen minutes for Tom to return, and he looked utterly shagged; his hair out of place, his skin flushed and sweat-shiny; his lips swollen. Draco couldn't look at him; Blaise had helped him relieve his needs only minutes earlier, and the sight of Tom was still giving him the guiltiest boner.

"Sorry I'm late," said Tom sincerely, as if he weren't aglow. He didn't even offer any excuses.

Neither boy dared to call him on it, either. Even when Tom winced as he sat; or when his tie slipped enough to reveal the hickeys underneath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Verses cited: Job 41:1-3, 9-11, 33-34. Job 42:5-6. (New International Version)
> 
> I have been holding onto the bookmark for those lines for a smut scene for longer than I've been a member of this site. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Maquira's original prompt for this had Harry as the LGBT activist type, arguing with Tom on behalf of the students - "defending gay love", in their words. As you can see, this wasn't quite the Harry I ended up with. (:


End file.
